Until We Meet
by memories.of.rain
Summary: The countdown stood out against everyone's skin. Each color the numbers changed meant something: sick, hurt, dead. Kieren Walker's countdown began changing colors when he was nine years old and stopped the day he died. But when he rose, his countdown began again.
1. Just Kieren Walker

**This is my first _In the Flesh_ fic, and probably the most serious fic I've written so far. **

**Disclamir: I own nothing, all rights belong to their rightful owners!**

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It started in the 70s; little nonsensical numbers running vertically up the right arm of random people. The numbers were all different, but all had one thing in common: all were counting down to zero. People feared that the number was telling them when they would die, others thought of the numbers as some sort of evil. It wasn't until 1976 that sociologists discovered what the numbers actually meant. Two individuals were discovered to share the same number and with the help of the group of sociologists studying the numbers, they were able to meet.

When the two people sharing the counting down numbers met, their clocks reached zero and the two burst into tears. At first neither the two or the sociologists knew what was going on, but it was later decided that the two were soulmates.

Soon after that everyone was being born with a countdown on their arm. The older generation still had doubts in the idea of soulmates, but didn't show outright disdain for the idea of them.

The countdown wasn't perfect though. Oftentimes before the two people met, one would die and their soulmates number would turn black and the numbers would stop counting down. Sometimes people ignored the number and let their soulmates pass them by.

The color of the number was what people had to pay attention to. When your soulmate was sick, even if you hadn't met them yet would turn a sickly yellow color. When they were hurt it'd turn red.

Kieren's countdown had been an orange color for months. He noticed it while he sat in the cave with Rick and couldn't help the flinch at the violent orange stretched across his arm.

"What's up, Ren?" Rick asked picking up on Kieren's sudden distress.

"It's just... it's never been orange before," He confessed softly.

Kieren saw Rick's demeanor change from concerned to bitter. Rick was one if the few born with his countdown already at zero, the black harsh against the skin of a screaming baby.

"You're soulmate will live through it," Rick grumbled, pull in Kieren closer to his body. "He should be here already, your knight in shying armor."

"Rick, that's not how it works. I have to wait for the timer to get down to zero."

"Well, why can't I be your soulmate for now? I can keep you happy."

Kieren looked at Rick with wide eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd asked Kieren to let them be together, Rick was his best friend. He knew how much Rick wanted to have a soulmate, how much he desired to have that connection he'd never get. This was something Kieren could do for Rick by just being himself. It never had to go further than kissing, Rick would respect his boundaries.

"Do you promise not to go further than kissing?" Kieren asked, not meeting Rick's eyes. As much as he wanted to Give something to Rick, he still felt like he was betraying his soulmate, especially while the number was still the color it was.

Kieren didn't receive an answer from Rick before rough lips were moving against his. The kiss was rough and wet with Rick grasping at Kieren, trying to pull him closer, still so desperate for that deeper connection. Kieren tried to give Rick what he wanted, tried to allow him some semblance of the bond, but could only press his lips to the other in soft movements.

When the two separated Rick gave Kieren the biggest smile Kieren had seen on Rick's face since he had successfully nabbed two bottles of beer from his father's storage five weeks ago. Rick pulled him into a hug and leaned his face into his hair.

"I love you, Ren," Rick mumbled into his mop of hair.

It took all that Kieren had not to burst into tears at the confession. He knew that he could never love Rick like he did him: unrestrained, fully, not hindered by a countdown that changed colors more often than a chameleon.

"I-I love you too, Rick," he whispered back. Because that was the only thing Kieren could do for Rick, he was only Kieren Walker.

The next day Kieren woke up to find that Rick had left for basic training, not even a note left behind for him. Kieren felt both relieved and hurt by the situation. He was happy that he wouldn't have to be Rick's pseudo-soulmate, but was hurt that Rick couldn't stand a full day as his soulmate before running away, not that Kieren really blamed him. He was just Kieren Walker, the shy, queer artist who worried about the various colors of his countdown more than he did his paint palettes.

A few months later and he received the news that Rick had been caught in an explosion and was announced dead. He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye, none of his thousands of letters had been returned, not even a simple "hello" had been sent back and now he'd never get a reply.

He went through the motions of putting on the black suit. The rain splatter against an empty casket as it was lowered into the ground. Kieren had taken off his jacket and placed it over Jem's shoulders to keep her dry and which is how he saw it happen.

The white of his dress shirt had gone nearly see through from the rain and only the decision of wearing an undershirt saved him from embarrassment. But the undershirt didn't cover his arms. He caught it out of the corner of his eye. The sickly yellow that had been there for nearly a day slowly faded into an murky yellowish-green before seeping into inky horror.

Kieren couldn't stop himself from running from Rick's funeral. He couldn't think. All he could see was black numbers stopped at 1 year 5 months 22 days 3 hours 43 minutes 8 seconds. 1:05:22:03:43 scrawled across his arm in black. He'd never seen something so ugly.

Before he realized it he was in the cave Rick and he had hung out in more often than not. He looked at the spray painted words "Rick + Ren 4ever". It had been something cute they had done when they were younger, gave Rick a sense of comfort that he wouldn't be alone. All it did for Kieren was make him feel more alone.

He fiddled desperately around in the pockets of his dress pants, pulling out the present he'd received from his father: a silver army knife. He flicked the blade open carefully as to not cut his fingers, he knew what he was doing.

With the precision he'd gained from his art he dragged the knife across the black numbers; felt the warmth of blood bubble over the top and bottom of the numbers.

Satisfied with his work on his right arm, he repeated the action across his other arm, letting his blood drip onto his white shirt.

He let the knife rest in his hands as he relaxed his arms. He vaguely wondered if the college would give his scholarship away to someone else, someone who knew how much red was needed to complete the painting. He regretted not writing something to his family, but couldn't bring himself to care too much about it.

After all, he was just Kieren Walker, not even his soulmate wanted him.

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**I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story. Please leave a comment if you have time!**


	2. Rising

**Two chapters in one day, this is new :) I hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

**Disclamir: I still don't own anything!**

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When Kieren woke up, he woke up to darkness. He wildly turned his head from side to side, searching for a glimpse of light, but all he saw was black. He raised his arms and pounded at the force above him - Listening to the dulled knocking sound that came back to his ears in between the noise of his panting.

Desperately clawing at the silk covered wood, he shoved himself against it. He felt it give slightly at his advances and renewed his efforts with determination and fear motivating him.

He slowly broke through the wood that was encasing him and felt the moist earth greet his fingers. He continued clawing, moving clumps of earth aside to allow himself to climb farther up, further from the wooden box.

Suddenly his fingers couldn't claw up anymore, the dirty fingers grasping at thin air. _Air_.

Shoving himself the rest of the way out of his self made hole he desperately gasped at the air around him. He felt the rain splash against his cheeks, washing away some of the dirt that covered him.

The fear he felt previously seemed to melt away from his body. Looking around him he noticed the bodies coming out of what he now knew were graves.

He didn't bother to look at the crossed out numbers on his arms. He wasn't sure who he was, but he was hungry.

The next time Kieren woke up he was in Norfolk Treatment Center being treated for Partially Deceased Syndrome, or PDS as it was shortened.

"Where am I?" Kieren stuttered out, looking at the men and women in white uniforms.

"You're in Norfolk Treatment Center, you're being treated for PDS," the man in front of him told calmly, putting an odd device on the table along with an empty bottle.

"PDS?"

"Partially Deceased Syndrome, you've been a sufferer since the rising."

"The rising?"

After an abbreviated history lesson, Kieren sat, taking in his surroundings. An off-white room with minimal furnishings. Curtains of hospital blue fluttered from the air conditioning that buzzed from the old vent that hugged the ceiling.

He turned his attention to his hands, taking in the grayish white of his skin that was not unlike the walls of the room. He inspected his fingernails that had turned a deep purple, displaying his post-mortem state to the world. Letting his eyes travel up, he stopped at his death wound.

The wound was held together with a neat row of staples, allowing the numbers he had cut in half to meet again. He watched the green numbers countdown on his arm. Countdown on his arm?

He brought his arm up to his face to inspect the numbers 00:07:11:02:33:12... 11... 10.

He was going to meet his soulmate in seven months, 11 days, two hours, 33 minutes, seven seconds, six seconds, five seconds.

"Oh, you've noticed your countdown started again," the doctor commented happily. "Lucky for you, your soulmate must have risen too."

He could only watch the numbers in amazement. He was Kieren Walker and maybe his soulmate wanted him after all.

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**Leave a comment if you have time! *Gives you all a plate of cookies and a glass of milk***


	3. Norfolk

**Goodness gracious this fic is turning into a monster, but I'm really enjoying it so far. Again unbeta'd so I apologize for any mistakes.**

**Disclamir: I OWN NOTHING! All rights to In The Flesh belong to the rightful owners.**

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With his countdown started back up, Kieren should have held a sense of hope. He could still meet his soulmate, have that special bond that was so sought after. Only Kieren couldn't bare to look at his countdown anymore. He'd slashed across the frozen numbers in a fit of hurt and anger; abandonment fresh on his mind. How could he face his soulmate when he had wanted to distance himself from the very thing that connected them?

That was why Kieren took every opportunity to wear long sleeves; to cover up a mistake that even disturbed himself.

"So Kieren, how are you today?" His doctor asked with a smile.

Kieren dragged himself away from his contemplation of his countdown to answer his doctor, "I think I'm feeling better today."

"Good, very good, any flashbacks?"

"Just when I take the Nortriptyline, it's always the same thing too," Kieren confessed, "I'm in the supermarket and I attack this girl-"

"You were untreated, it wasn't your fault, remember the exercise," the doctor corrected.

Kieren sighed and grabbed the mirror that was offered to him. "I am a PDS sufferer and can not be held accountable for what I did in my untreated state," he recited as he usually did, reluctantly and then quickly as if he couldn't get the words off his tongue fast enough.

"Good," the doctor praised turning to grab his dose of medicine. "I've noticed that you haven't been looking at your countdown, do you know what it's at now?"

"A little more than seven months."

"Why not show your countdown off? Be proud of the numbers that still countdown on your arm."

Kieren paused, playing with his sleeve to pretend to be contemplating his answer. He knew he'd have to say something eventually, his doctor had a way of pulling the truth out of his patients. "I feel like I've tainted our bond," Kieren muttered.

"Because of how you died?"

"Yeah, I mean, who does that?" Kieren asked, his own self loathing adding another layer of clothing to cover his arms.

The doctor gave him a look and shrugged his shoulders. "People do crazy things when they're in love," he stated simply, lining the gun to the hole in the back of his neck.

Without further discussion the medicine was depressed into his body with a flex of the trigger. Memories of the supermarket came back to him, of the blood and cerebral tissue swishing around in his mouth. The blood that coated his arms just like the afternoon he slashed the black on his arm.

An unnecessary gasp leapt from him and he clung to the white coat of his doctor. Every time without fail, the same flashbacks, the same sad tale of poor Kieren Walker.

The doctor chanted his name until he released his hold on the doctor's coat.

"That's it, Kieren," the doctor said, "now all you have to do is get through final examinations and you can go home."

Home. He hadn't thought too much about it especially when he thought about how he said goodbye to them or the lack of a goodbye. He wondered if Jem's countdown had reached zero by now; he couldn't remember the exact number it had been when she last showed him, but there hadn't been a terribly large amount of time left on it. He wondered which one of his parents found his body and how long it took them to start searching. He wondered what they thought about his ruined countdown.

"That sounds... nice," Kieren mumbled.

The rest of the day followed in a similar pattern of melancholy and 'what if's until he got to his final group therapy session before the examination.

His roommate, Alex sat beside him, black hair, attitude seeping out of his stitched skin. Alex wasn't like him; not only did he not feel guilty for what he had done in his untreated state, but also his roommate's countdown was black, unchanging: soulmate dead. His roommate was never bothered by them though, in fact he seemed to relish in the "freedom" it gave him. Kieren found it mildly disturbing.

He looked around at the other people there, some more decayed than others, but all with the same pale skin, same pin-prick eyes, same outfit that all the patients were given. He'd indulged his mind in the the morbid guessing game, "guess the cause of death" during one of his first sessions and their appearance didn't phase him at all anymore.

Kieren softly explained to the group what the worst side effect of the Nortriptyline was for him. "...the worst side effect, for me, is the flashbacks," Kieren explained, fiddling with the cuff of the sleeve on his right arm. "It's always of the last person that I... Before... When I was... When I was in my Untreated State. Me and another dea -PDS sufferer- we hunted together and we were in this supermarket and this girl was there and, and I...It's so vivid what we - what I did to her and the guilt. It's crippling. But you know, I guess I deserve it."

Alex snorted at his speech and turned his whole attention to him. "Mate, if you hadn't've fed on her you'd have rotted away yourself," Alex said, "You shouldn't feel guilty."

"Alex-"

"They killed us too during the Rising. Seeing the bloody numbers counting down on our arms, obviously signifying us as the same as them, but blowing our heads off without a second thought," Alex snapped, "But oh, oh, that's 'defending humanity' so that's okay. That's not murder, that's being a hero. While they get medals, we get medicated."

Alex had always been angry, always felt that he had a right to do what he did when he was untreated. Kieren watched as Alex and Hannah riled each other up with snappy insults and bringing up past addictions. Luckily Keith, the advisor to this whole thing stepped in and put a stop to it.

"You're all on edge," Keith reasoned, "Because of Sunday. Am I right? It's normal to be nervous about going back. But with the cover up mousse you're getting and - hey I see some of you have already started trying out your new contact lenses. How are they feeling?"

Kieren gave a few harsh blinks to readjust the contact into the right position. It was thick and barely bendy, reminiscent of dried acrylic paint that had been peeled from his pallet. "A bit unnatural," Kieren confessed.

Alex gave a cruel smile at the statement. "That's cos they are unnatural! Invented by the living to hide our true selves," he hissed.

"Pin prick and proud," Hannah joked, receiving some chuckles from the others around the circle.

Keith nodded his head good-naturedly at the laughter. "Couple of smiles. Good. Keep it up. On Sunday you're gonna be seeing your family and friends again," he said, gazing around at the group before landing on Kieren who was rubbing his eyes. "Kieren, mate, who are you looking forward to seeing?"

Kieren stopped rubbing his eyes to take in the question he was asked. "My little sister, Jem," he said, forgetting his discomfort.

"You got a soulmate out there too, don't ya'?" Keith asked, receiving a nod from Kieren. "I bet ya' can't wait to get your hands on them."

"Yeah… I guess so," Kieren mumbled. In truth, Kieren didn't know if he'd ever be truly ready to meet his soulmate now, but he could still dream about them sometimes.

The rest of the day was uneventful, mainly everyone was getting ready to be transferred to the place where they'd meet their families. Getting ready involved standing in queue waiting to sit down opposite a treatment assistant who had boxes upon boxes of "IRISALWAYS CONTACT LENSES". After waiting a few more moments, Kieren was able to sit down at the vacant seat.

"Name?" The assistant asked tonelessly.

"Kieren Walker."

The assistant checked the list to make sure his name was on it.

"Blue or brown?"

Kieren looked at the assistant with confusion. "I don't…" He started, hinting that he needed more information to answer her question.

"Did you have blue eyes or brown eyes?" She clarified shortly.

Kieren had to think about that, he had forgotten that his eyes hadn't always been the pin pricks that they were now. Noticing the treatment assistant's impatient look he quickly said, "Brown."

She gave him three boxes with the word "Brown" on the side and shouted for the next PDS sufferer to come forward.

He met up with Alex in the rec room. Alex sat in his corner, reading mail, something he did everyday even when he only got ads.

Sitting down next to him, Kieren started the conversation. "You know it wouldn't hurt for you to interact with everyone."

Alex looked up from his mail and gave Kieren a flat look. "Why should I interact with them? The reason I'm glad my soulmate isn't alive is because I don't want to interact with them," Alex explained.

Kieren flinched at his roommate's words. No matter how often he heard Alex talk badly about soulmates Kieren would never get used to it. "Keith says you're talking bollocks when you throw around your disdain for the countdowns."

"Course he does. He's one of them. The living. Can't trust a word they say."

Kieren watches Alex take out a pen and scribble a website address on one of the envelopes in his lap. "This is a guy you can trust, Kier," he whispered, handing Kieren the envelope. "One I told you about; The Undead Prophet. That's his website. When you get home, check it out. He'll blow your mind." He pauses in his discussion of the prophet. "Think there's a letter from your folks in there."

Kieren takes the mail from Alex, digging through the slips of paper to find the one addressed to him. He notices an unmarked package near the middle of the stack. Carefully, Kieren opens the package, tipping it to the side to allow the object to roll out. A blue bottle of pills with only a small logo of an arm bursting through a grave, the hand clenched in a fist.

Before Kieren can examine the bottle further, Alex grabs it from his hand and gives it a little shake in front of his face. "These are mine, mate," Alex said with a grin.

"What are they?" Kieren asks.

"There from the prophet."

Their conversation is interrupted by the ringing bell. Everyone in the rec room stopped what they were doing and began filing out of the room.

"Shot time," Alex said.

Soldiers are posted along the hallways, weapons at the ready in case something happens. Kieren tugs at his sleeves to make sure they're covering his wrists and chances a glance at Alex who has stepped away from the group. He watches as Alex opens the little blue bottle and tap out little pills in his hand. It's weird watching Alex swallow the pills; none of them have had to swallow anything since they were in their untreated state.

Alex seemed to be fine from whatever he took until he lets out a low groan. By now they're in line, waiting for their final shot, their ticket out of this place.

"Mate? Alex? What did you take?" Kieren asks. Alex is panting, unnecessary, but his body seems to crave the illusion of fresh oxygen seeping into his lungs. Alex looks awful. Seeing the nurse approaching them he tries to reason with her. "Nurse, my room mate, he, he, he's taken something and I think -"

Before he could finish the nurse had already injected Alex. And that is when the real terror starts. Alex twitches, like normal, like every other PDS sufferer, but then he shudders violently. It's horrifying, watching his roommate convulse and blood pour out his mouth.

After that it's wild; shouts and panicked voices screaming codes and men with stun guns. He watches Alex lash out like they all did in their rabid state, untreated. He watches Alex's body collapse to the ground in a heap where men pick him up.

"Where are they taking him?" Kieren asked, trying to get the nurses attention. She walks away.

Kieren examines his roommate, his somewhat friend. He glances at the black countdown on Alex's arm and swears that the numbers have been smeared across his arm. They're illegible, not even one number is conceivable in the array of black on Alex's arm.

He pulls at his sleeve cuffs and waits for this to be over.

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